The boardroom air hung thick with unspoken threats. Twenty-three gazes locked onto Sterling like crosshairs, finding their target. The mahogany table stretched between us like a battlefield, polished to mirror perfection, reflecting the tension that crackled through the air like electricity before a storm.
Sterling didn't speak. Didn't move. Didn't even blink.
The hush stretched until it became unbearable, a wire pulled taut, ready to snap. I watched his father's face flush into deeper shades of red, watched Julian's fingers drum against the table in barely contained irritation, watched Seraphina's perfectly painted lips thin into a bloodless line.
Then Arthur Prescott exploded.
His fist crashed against the table with the force of a gavel pronouncing judgment. Crystal water glasses jum
